


A Mother's Duty

by LudmithJacques



Series: Imperial Reme Saga [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anal, Court Politics, Dickgirl on Male, F/F, F/M, Futa, Futa on Male, Gangbang, Hypnosis, Incest, Other, Scheming, Shemale, Shemale on Male, animal endowment, dickgirl, nonconsensual sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25563112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LudmithJacques/pseuds/LudmithJacques
Summary: It is the dawning of a new era. The Prince-Consul is dead, and his chosen heir is not who anyone expected, least of all him. How will this horny young man handle an empire populated almost exclusively with hung shemales? How will his ambitious mother handle being passed over for the throne?
Series: Imperial Reme Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852522
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So one day I met a man who said 'Hey, I want a one on one D&D type campaign based in a world of my own design with a Game of Thrones kinda vibe. It's basically Rome but also steampunky and almost everyone's a woman with a cock' and I said... 'Sounds like fun.'
> 
> Cowritten by Alfie Quinn

The Imperial City of Reme was ancient and sprawling, the beating heart of a thriving empire, an empire currently held in agonizing suspense over its future. The Prince-Consul, Gaius Julius, was dead, and all were in attendance to hear the reading of his final wishes, and to see him entombed with his forebears.

The people of noble birth gathered in the main courtyard of the palace itself, just inside the gates; behind them were the lesser houses of merchant princesses and distinguished military heroes; behind them was the rabble, spilling out through the gates and surrounding the palace, stretching throughout the city as far as the eye could see.

The royal family itself stood upon a large balcony, arranged before the masses, resplendent in their finery. The Prince-Consul's sisters, all famed for their beauty, and his nephew, a young boy of only twenty years who had loved his royal uncle greatly.

Black was much in evidence that day.

But it was no member of House Julii who spoke to the stately assembly below and the thronging masses beyond. It was the Voice of the Prince-Consul, his chief advisor, closest confidant, and executor of his will in all things in his absence, Agrippina.

"People of Reme," her words echoed throughout the city, repeated by Cryers who were chosen for excellent hearing as well as lung capacity. "Prince-Consul Gaius Julius was a veteran of a dozen campaigns before he ascended his father's throne with the blessings of the gods." A pause, a cheer from the crowd. "He brought fortune and glory to our illustrious Empire during his reign, and personally led the final campaign against the Elves of the Grey Mountains in the north, ending the war with a decisive battle, but not before receiving a most grievous wound that would prove his undoing after months of valiant struggle.

"It is on this day that we consign his remains to their final rest, and on this day that the senate has unanimously voted him Caesar!"

Another pause in the oration, this time filled with the wild roaring of the nobles and the hoard of citizens behind them, a fervent cheer for their much beloved ruler as he was granted the highest title in death that so few ever achieved, a title second only to that of Emperor, which none may hold by the will of the gods, until all of the continent of Weyland was united under one banner.

A growing silence spread amongst the high born as the broad doors of the palace proper slowly swung open, and Caesar was borne forth. The casket, made from the richest dark woods taken from the Grey Mountains that were his end and inlaid with gold wrought so finely to display his final battle and mortal wounding along the sides, was closed. His death-mask was carved upon the lid, stern and strong-featured for all to see as it toured the city so all might pay respects; carried upon the shoulders of six of his own royal guard, fully armed and armored to defend him on his final march, full helms hiding their faces. Thus he would be bid farewell by his people before returning to the palace and being interred beneath the Temple of All Gods.

Such a somber procession could take hours to perform, even days depend on how the people behaved, so ancient custom did not demand silence once the glorious dead were out of sight.

"As it is known," Agrippina began again once her old friend and mentor passed out of sight. "Caesar Gaius took no wife and fathered no bastards besides. As decreed by the gods in times long lost, he has instead chosen an heir from his father's house."

At this the royals behind her began to perk up. Such circumstances were rare, but not unheard of, and the tradition was a well-known way to stop wars for succession before they could begin. None seemed perkier however than the obvious choice, and had the Lady Venus Julius a tail with feathers, it would have fanned in a display that would make a peacock fume with jealousy. As it was, she made due with straightening her her neck and squaring her shoulders, pushing her heavy breasts out against her tastefully-plain but still-clinging black dress as a serving girl subtly slipped out onto the balcony with a small, black satin pillow in her hands, a golden laurel resting on top of it.

"It is by Caesar Gaius' own decree that I do name his heir-" Agrippina proclaimed, turning to the royal family and gently taking the laurel from the cushion and holding it aloft for all to see, before she set it with reverence, not upon the carefully styled golden coiffure of Gaius' older sister, but upon the flowing raven locks of her son.

"Augustus Julius, Prince-Consul and supreme ruler of the Holy Empire of Reme!"

If the crowd had cheered and roared before, it positively exploded now. A wild cheer was common at a coronation, but there was more to this than celebration.

There was confusion, even _outrage_!

Augustus was known at court as a boy with no ambition beyond whose bed he could slip into next. He wasn't even the heir to his mother's estate. Nothing, it was commonly known, but a shameless whore and leech.

And none were more surprised at this turn of events than he.

It is custom for the newly-crowned to give a speech, and as Prince-Consul(however recent the title may have been), Augustus could not defy this custom. So he followed where Agrippina, his inherited Voice, beckoned, stood at the edge of the great balcony and looked out upon the people.

 _His_ people.

"I do not-" he began, pausing suddenly to collect his thoughts. "I can only hope to prove worthy of this responsibility my honored Uncle has entrusted to me." After another moment's pause he added: "And let this day be known forever after as a day of friendship and thanks, and remembrance of a great man. A most holy day!"

A ragged cheer went up from the crowd beyond the gates, and there was a polite applause from the smaller group in the courtyard. After all, who didn't love a holiday? For a man such as Gaius, the holiday would be a grand one indeed, full of feasting and drinking and merriment, but for now it was a day of mourning.

With nothing left to say, the Prince-Consul turned to his Voice, who proceeded to guide him from the balcony. His family followed, listening as the somber woman softly praised him for the brevity and humility of his speech.

The newly-made Queen Mother Venus kept a serene smile on her face while they were on the balcony, dropping it in favor of _seething fury_ as shestepped within the walls of the palace proper.

Before she could vent her spleen however, Agrippina motioned to a pair of guards to approach.

"I'm sure you wish to mourn your brother," the Voice said, giving Venus a most congenial smile. "As well as reflect upon the honorable burden he has placed upon his nephew. These two shall escort you to your apartments."

With that, the two armored women approached the three sisters, ready to guide them to their quarters elsewhere in the palace while Agrippina led the Prince-Consul to the royal suite. If they happened to block Venus from following her son, surely that was by accident.

*~*~*

The royal apartments were easily the largest suite of living quarters Augustus had ever seen, and in any other circumstance he would have delighted in exploring. As it was, he was rather numb to the splendor of the rooms that were now his. He turned slowly, looking at the room without seeing until he was facing Agrippina.

The crowds outside would have seen her strawberry-blonde hair cascading down her back, and the black mourning dress; they would not have seen her green eyes, or the swell of her considerable bust, or the trimness of her waist, or the flare of her hips. Augustus had seen this all before, as he'd been close to his uncle and had come to visit many times, but it was like he was seeing her for the first time.

"I'm not sure what to do," he said eventually, idly playing with the hem of his tunic as he looked up at her. She was quite tall, so was every woman Augustus had met. Perhaps he was quite short. He hadn't met many men to compare, and Gaius was a giant in his memory. "What to do now, I mean. It can't be as simple as a few words and a... And a hat, can it?"

 _He's still so cute_ , she thought, looking him up and down now that they were alone together. Her eyes were drawn to his hands, soft dainty things that played the satin hem of his tunic; then his legs, long despite his height, pale and smooth from a life of luxury, his calves only accentuated by the long straps of his sandals.

"Don't the gods need to... Approve of me, or something?" he asked, taking her silence as a cue to be specific. "A-and the highborn, they have to swear fealty, right?"

"Correct on all counts, your Grace," she said, her gaze meeting his sapphire eyes. She took the briefest of moments to admire his soft, effeminate face, as well as the subtle eyeliner and shadow. Nothing garish, just enough to look his best for a funeral. "But the Temple will allow none but the Priestesses inside until your royal uncle returns and is laid to rest. The hour his tomb is sealed, you shall be summoned for the ritual. As for fealty, as well as all other pieces of Royal business, it is custom for the newly crowned to receive a day of rest, that you might plan, or simply enjoy yourself in private for a day."

"Enjoy myself?" the boy asked, only for Agrippina to smile and clap her hands twice.

At this signal, several wall-hangings stirred in their places before being pushed aside from behind, revealing several secret passages from which poured scores of women. They came in all sizes and colors, some taller than any woman Augustus had ever seen, some shorter than even him. Most were human, some were not; a mix of elves from the east with their pale skin and almond eyes, and even elves from the north with skin the color of storm clouds and hair white as snow, were among humans of all colors.

Even with all these differences, it was obvious Gaius had a type. In fact, three things were immediately obvious to Augustus when all the women gathered around him in orderly rows behind Agrippina. Firstly, they were all very nearly naked, wearing nothing but a slender loincloth of golden silk that fell to their knees, held up by a delicate golden chain about their hips. Second, if they had been wearing anything above the waist it would have looked like they were a watermelon-smuggling ring. The heaviest girl there could have smothered Augustus with ease! Thirdly, they were all carrying ornate clay pots, each about the size of his fists put together.

"Is this, uh," he hesitated, blushing and looking this way and that. Not out of shame, but because he couldn't pick a favorite. "How they always dress for funerals?"

"It is how Gaius bid them dress for all occasions," Agrippina said with a chuckle. "You may have them dress as you wish, of course, but until you say otherwise they shall serve you just as they served him."

"I see," he said, eyeing one of the older women. "And the pots?"

"Soothing oils for your muscles," the Voice explained. "Each a different scent, and all safe to swallow."

"Ah, wonderful," he said when he realized what was to happen. He found the 'safe to swallow' comment odd, but thought nothing of it. "Can I only have one?"

"You are the Prince-Consul of Reme," Agrippina reminded him. "You may have anything your heart desires."

"I want you," he said, pointing to the older woman he'd been ogling, as well as a brawny woman who looked like she could carry him perched on one arm. "And you. Everyone else may get comfortable and stay. You're all beautiful and I wish to look upon you."

"And me, your Grace?" Agrippina asked.

"I did say _everyone_ stays, didn't I?" he asked with a smile.

With more smiles all around, the girls found seats on cushion and couches, or lounged on the floor, careful to stay where Augustus could see them while he was led away by his chosen attendants.

As he was gently stripped nude, the attendants let out soft coos of appreciation at the sight of his girlish form, his trim waist and wide hips. They laid him down on the broad bed and gave him time to appreciate it. It was a massive affair of gold satin sheets on a feather down mattress so big and soft that twelve adults could fit it easily, shoulder to shoulder, and each of them would feel like they were lying on their own personal cloud.

Before long, they were kneeling on either side of him, hands slathered in scented oils as they began to rub him. Involuntary moans were drawn from his soft lips almost immediately as they squeezed and stroked his chest and arms, the smell of lilacs and strawberries quickly filling the air.

It wasn't long at all before the poor Prince was stiff as a board between his thighs, but the two beauties simply kept at their duties, save for the occasional 'accidental' brush here and there. Gently, they rolled him onto his front, the muscle-bound brunette carefully fondling his cock as he settled down so he wouldn't be uncomfortable, and massaged his back, his neck, and his ass; the entire room enjoying his moans and groans all the while.

Soon, every inch of his supple body was glistening, and every eye was on his plump bubble-butt as his attendants raised his hips.

"We must relax _all_ of your muscles, your Grace," the well-aged blonde explained with a smile as her hands parted those plump cheeks for the audience, letting every eye in the room get a good look at his royal hole, her fingers tenderly caressing that ring of muscle.

"O-ohhhh..." was all Augustus could say at first, his twitching cock perfectly visible with how they'd propped him up on his knees. "Of course... Please, be... Thorough."

If he was going to say more, it was lost to a toe-curling moan as those skilled fingers found their way inside of him. She worked him thoroughly, as requested, probing and stroking everything she could reach with the digits knuckle-deep inside him, paying special attention to the smooth lump that was his prostate.

The other girl spent her time massaging his scalp, fingers buried in his fine hair, keeping him eye-level with the twitching tent in her loin-cloth at all times, even 'accidentally' forcing him to rub his face into it as she repositioned herself now and then. She made sure these accidents happened every time he moaned, so the bulge of silk-coated cock slipped into his mouth now and then.

"W-wait," he said suddenly, looking back over his shoulder at the older woman, watching the look on her face go from nervous disappointment to glee when she saw the look in his eye. "I need... I need a _deeper_ massage."

"As you wish, your Grace."

Augustus looked forward again and braced himself by gripping the sheets as he felt a certain throbbing something pressing against his slickened hole, moaning as he was slowly forced to stretch around her girth and take every inch. Before she could hilt inside him however, he looked up at the woman rubbing his scalp with a grin, and swiftly tugged her loincloth aside. He was greeted to the sight of a thick, twitching cock, the broad head glistening with precum.

"I need- Unh! I need my throat massaged too," he gasped, even as he dragged his tongue over the tip of her cock and moaning at the taste.

"As you wish, your Grace," she groaned. She could have pushed his head down and fucked his throat, but she didn't need to. He was eagerly doing that all on his own. All she could do was moan in pleasure and try not to cum too fast.

Agrippina watched as the Prince-Consul, crowned not an hour ago, urged two complete strangers to spit-roast him. Of course, she wasn't left alone either. As the Voice of the Prince-Consul she was also the Mistress of his Handmaidens, and that meant she never wanted for a lover. Even now, as she reclined on a couch, her dress was up around her hips, and a pale elf was greedily swallowing her cock, a grey elf standing behind her had her hands shoved down her dress to grope her tits and play with her nipples.

Naturally, while most of the other handmaidens were content to watch and wait to be called to service, some were not. A few were masturbating, some where kissing, and some were fucking. One husky girl had a mouth on each nipple and two on her cock, the poor thing a writhing mess under the onslaught of pleasure.

Augustus rolled his hips back against the cock in his ass, forcing it even deeper with a moan that was muffled by the fat femme prick stuffing his throat. The experienced woman took this a signal and gripped his hips tightly as her own began to move faster and faster, the pretty Prince's moans coming louder and harder, even as he was sawed up and down the shaft in his mouth. The thrusting behind him forced him to take it down his throat again and again, his nose poking into the muscular woman's pelvis, her balls slapped wetly into his drool-coated chin.

One had only to look into his eyes to see that he was in bliss. One could also find his twitching, leaking cock hanging ignored beneath the boy. He released the sheet and gripped the thick thighs in front of him instead, looking their owner dead in the eyes with a wild lust as he proceeded to slurp and swallow around her fuckpole. Partly this was to help him breathe, but mostly was to get her dick sloppy with drool and throat-slime as the head of her cock scraped it out by the ounce, the thick stringy mucus connecting his chin to her heavy sack with sloppy gooey ropes.

Feeling the tell-tale tingle in the core of her cock, the burly handmaiden tried to pull out of his throat, only for his delicate-looking hands to snake under her thighs to grip her toned ass tightly. The sudden iron-grip surprised her into jerking her hips forward, thrusting her pulsating member all the way down his throat and making her cum hard.

Augustus let his eyes fall closed as he felt hot jets of seed pump down his throat, his own spunk squirting onto the bed. His orgasm tightened his throat even more, as well as his ass, prompting the woman pumping his stomach to cum even harder as she gripped his head and ground into his face; and forcing the older woman behind him to join in the orgasmic fun, her back arching as her movements grew jerk and sporadic before she finally slammed her cock home and came hard, prompting Augustus to moan even more as he was flooded from both ends.

Slowly, they both pulled free with a wet, slurping, squelching _**pop**_ , Augustus coughing a little as they shakily lay down around him.

Slowly, the Prince pulled himself up to his knees, looking a right royal slut indeed. With cum dripping from his ass and oozing down his chin, dripping onto his bare chest. he smiled the smile of one who'd only just begun to realize the possibilities that came with a crown in a world full of beautiful women with huge cocks.

"So," he said, his voice hoarse and gummy as he looked around at the dozens of women he'd yet to sample. "Who wants to massage me next?"

*~*~*

"That slutty little bastard!"

To say that Lady Venus was displeased was an understatement. To say that she was proud of her son was a fantastic lie.

At the moment, she was venting her frustration on her sister in her favorite way; Fucking. Namely, brutally fucking her face.

Normally she reserved such rough treatment for her son. She'd spent years training him to be a proper little fuck toy for her personal use as well as a party favor or a bribe. Such a thing was normal enough for noble families with excess children, but now he was beyond her reach, so she had to make do.

Aninna, the middle sister of the three, was naked save for a long necklace of pearls wound around her neck while still being long enough to hang between her tits; on her knees in Venus' solar, her ass pressed to the glass wall behind her, her hands gripping her sister's own toned rump as her throat was ravaged.

Venus was also nude save for some jewelry, though in her case it was her earrings and the signet ring of her house. The ring was currently buried in Aninna's hair at the moment, the hand that bore it gripping tightly as she thrust.

"For years I've brought honor to our house, managed our lands while Gaius waged his stupid little wars, for nothing! What has that little cocksocket ever done with his life but coat it in seed!?"

She glared out the window as she spoke, her heavy tits pressing against the glass, nipples hard on the cool surface as she leaned low over her sister's head.

Any answer Aninna might have made was forced to take the form of gagged grunts that were mostly smothered by her sister's hefty sack smacking into her chin.

Lucilla, the youngest sister, lounged on a couch nearby; a slender smoking pipe in one hand, her cock in the other.

"Gaius must have seen _something_ in him," she said, sucking on the stem of her pipe and blowing sweet-smelling smoke rings towards her older sisters as she lazily stroked her shaft to the incestuous show.

It was the wrong thing to say.

The furious matriarch forced her massive cock to distend her sister's throat visibly as she let out a wordless shout of rage, Lucilla getting a perfect view between Venus' powerful thighs as she stuffed it as deep as Aninna's jaws would allow and simply held her still.

The poor woman sputtered and gagged, bubbles of saliva bursting past her strained lips and onto the base of her sister's massive shecock, her fingers clawing at her ass, but Venus only down into her pleading eyes with contempt and satisfaction as she imagined her son beneath her.

Lucilla only stroked herself harder, grinning at the erotic dominance display. She knew no harm was meant by it, and that Aninna enjoyed it too if her pre-leaking erection was anything to go by.

She got a good view of her older sister's ass clenching, her balls pulling up tight to the base of her shaft, and of her younger sister's struggles intensifying as Venus flooded her throat with thick, sticky cum.

When she was done using her sister as a cumbucket, Venus puled out, her fat shaft dripping a lewd mixture of her spunk and Aninna's saliva as she turned to face a young (and very erect, if the bulge in her white uniform toga was any hint) page girl.

"Inform the Mistress of Whispers that I would speak with her," she said, even as Lucilla rose from her couch and set her pipe down, approaching her sister with a hungry look in her eyes. "But tell her to take her time getting here..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Augustus practices politics, the only way he knows how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cowritten by Alfie Quinn

That night, Augustus slept like a dead man, his bed a tangle of sheets and limbs that belonged to at least ten individuals stuck out at odd angles.

As the first rays of the rising sun slipped through a gap in the heavy curtains however, a gentle but firm hand reached into the mass of slick and sticky flesh and managed to find the thoroughly, delightfully well used Prince, and shake him awake.

"I don't wanna," he moaned sleepily, clinging to someone's thigh as he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter in defiance.

"Your Uncle has found his final rest," Agrippina said with a nearly-detectable hitch in her voice. "As Prince-Consul, you must go to the Temple now, and be judged by the gods."

"I suppose that's a pretty good reason to get up," he said after a moment of silence, slowly pushing himself out of the sleeping forms of a goodly portion of his handmaidens, only to find three more standing ready at the side of the bed behind Agrippina with a tub of steaming water, towels, and a plain white robe.

The bath was quick and thorough, nothing erotic about it, even though ti was three beautiful strangers soaping up his body and one beautiful not-stranger helping him into his robe.

The walk through the palace was a quiet one, a kind of pilgrimage to a holy place, just very short.

Augustus knew of this ritual from his school days, and while most of his school days were a blur of MILFy teacher cock, some lessons managed to stick. Somewhat. The Sanctification of the Successor had three stages. The first was purification, that had been the bath; the second was humility, he long walk from the Royal Chambers to the Temple of All-Gods. The third stage was unknown to all save the attendants of the temple, and those few who went through the ritual, save that some point the claimants to the throne would somehow hear the gods.

The ritual began as soon as the previous ruler's tomb was sealed, as opposed to any set time, so Agustus counted himself lucky he'd managed a full night of sleep. He was also surprised at how many important figures he passed along his way through the palace, memories of Gaiaus complaining of lazy nobles who slept until noon clashing with the faces of the finely dressed highborn who watched him through almost every hall. Their gazes were piercing, judging, appraising him even as he felt them strip him naked on the spot and finding him wanting.

By his side was his Voice, but no one else. Her take was to guide him on a set path through the palace, to offer a comforting hand, but as they finally reached the small servant's door that Augustus was to take, she bid him farewell.

"This next step you must take alone, my Prince," she said softly. "But worry not, for the gods have never failed to bless your line."

"Thank you," he said, turning away and opening the door to reveal a carefully trimmed sward a hundred yards across, and on the other side, the temple.

Many religions, faiths, and philosophies will claim humility as a virtue, that their followers must exhibit it at all times, even to the point that they built their places of worship and meditation small and practical. Not so the pantheon of Weyland, who preached decadence and excess in all things, ordering adherents to live hedonistic lifestyles and build elaborate feats of architecture in which to worship whenever possible. The Temple of All-Gods on the palace grounds was no exception.

The first thing any visitor would notice was the size of the thing, easily four stories of brilliantly scintillating marble topped by a massive glass dome. Augustus knew that the massive doors were made of oak and banded with iron, but what he saw was a massive pair of golden slabs mounted on the doors, depicting the Gods of Weyland in all their glory. At the very top stood Gladius, their King, the Lord of Valor and War, patron of the royal line and all of Reme. Legend had it that the royal house of Julii was descended from him.

Other parts of Weyland once disputed which god was in charge, as each of the Eight held sway over specific regions. As Gladius ruled Reme, so too did Eisenfrau, Lady of the Mountain, rule the Grey Elves until their conquest, so did Ichi, Lady of the Deep, rule the elvish islands of Anto until they joined the Empire, Bethal of Fertility in Gord, and Equusa of the Kho. They all still worshipped their patrons, but they knew that Gladius, as with Reme, ruled all.

Such ran through the Prince's head as he approached the doors, the grass soft beneath his feet. Before he reached them, the massive doors opened, as silent as a whisper, closing just as quietly behind him.

Within, the great structure was dominated by one massive chamber, brilliantly lit by the rising sun reflected by hundreds of mirrors carefully and artfully positioned along the walls. While the exterior was largely rounded and decorated with graceful columns, the inside was octagonal, each wall devoted to a god with its' own four-story mural and an altar at the base.

The floor itself was a mural, or rather a series of them, arranged in eight concentric circles. Each circle was a mosaic of scenes of a certain god's glory, discernable by color. The innermost circle was done in shades of red for Gladius, the next made of hues of gold for the lady of Dominance Sesteci, then grey for the Lady of the Mountain, yellow of the Lady of Fertility, purple for the Lady of Night, blue for the Lady of the Deep, green for the boy of the Woods, and finally brown for the Grand Stallion. The outermost ring ran against the walls beyond the murals, made of marble stone.

It was along this path Augustus was led by a tall woman wearing a crimson toga, her lustrous red curls cascading around her shoulders. At the base of each wall, the elaborate altars sat with a person-sized statue of that wall's deity enshrined within, and to these augustus was bid to kneel and offer a prayer.

"I ask you to find me worthy," he said softly, head bowed. Eight times the process was repeated until he'd made a complete circuit of the room and once more stood at the entrance.

While he had prayed, the devout who worshipped regularly in the temple had gathered, coming into the central chamber through hidden doors and prostrating themselves upon the rings dedicated to their chosen god, eight for each with Gladius' supporters crowding rather tightly in the center.

The priestesses all wore togas colored for their gods, but these women were all nude, something Augustus couldn't help but notice as the head priestess led him to the very center of the room.

"Now," she said softly, the first word he had heard since Agrippina had bid him farewell. "You must prove yourself to the gods, Augustus Julius, by pleasure the devout here today."

There were eight women in every circle, and a circle for each of the eight gods.

"Sixty-four women?" the Prince asked, swallowing his nerves.

"There is no time-limit, your Grace, but we will not legitimize your rule should you fail."

"Can I choose my methods?"

"Certainly," she answered, clapping her hands.

At the sound, all rose and walked to the Prince with knowing smiles as he slowly turned to look at them all.

"Take me," he said softly, his robe dropping from his shoulders to pool at his feet and bearing his supple young body to their hungry gazes. "Take me in any way you please, until you are satisfied."

With that permission, he was seized by those closest to him, the followers of Gaius, and forced to his knees.

As his mouth was filled with pulsing femcock, he looked up at its owner to find he recognized her as a palace guard, and the woman next to her was the captain of the city's Shields, the local militia and policing force. Many of the devout were familiar to him, he realized even as he felt his throat violated and forced to stretch around the cock sliding down into it. They came from all the peoples of the empire, and though most tended to stick to their own region's god, Augustus could see(during fleeting moments of lucidity as he was passed around like a party favor) that it wasn't a rule.

While the outermost ring was made up entirely of the horse-cocked muscular Kho women of the Peninsula where Equus ruled, there was one of them in the circle devoted to Bethal, a few pale elves slipped in with the followers of Sesteci, and so on.

For hours Augustus was used, stuffed and stretched and flooded again and again, sixty-four cocks thoroughly abusing his instruction to 'take him' to the absolute limit. All across the floor he went, sometimes walking on shaky legs, sometimes crawling, sometimes being carried. It got to the point where the poor boy wasn't sure where he was in the room, or who was using him, or how long he'd been there.

And then time seemed to slow. Not in the pleasure-drunk way it had been, but a far more profound way, a way Augustus could feel as it happened, the noise of the gangbang fading away to a deep drone, everything slowing to a crawl as his awareness seemed to reach a higher level than it was meant to.

Of all the things that had happened since he had entered the temple, this was one of the few he'd expected, yet still he was filled with fear and apprehension. The warm light of the sun took on a strange quality, as though viewed from underwater as it shimmered and shifted, a red hue filtering fitfully through for a moment before suddenly being unquestionably overtaken by glittering gold.

"Do not fear, O Prince," a voice spoke into his mind, sensual to the point where he could practically feel teeth on his ear and fingers on his body. "You will wear your crown and rule your empire, and you will be a sign of great change in this world, just as your predecessors were; but you shall be unique even among them all, for none who sat the Golden Throne have heard my voice, save you."

In this strange place in time, Augustus was unsure how to communicate. He could not move his body, and even if he could his mouth was thoroughly occupied by cock. So instead, he thought to himself.

"But all the Consuls of Reme heard Gaius..."

"Do you really think that old man has such a pretty voice as this?"

And just as suddenly as it had come, the moment passed, the light mellowed and time progressed with one significant difference.

Everyone in the room was suddenly cumming, and cumming hard. Easily the most powerful orgasms of their lives, judging by the sudden screams of surprise and ecstasy, as well as the most lasting. Even after everyone had collapsed to the floor, thick ropes of cum were still jetting into the air or onto feverish flesh. Poor Augustuswas fit to burst by the time it finally stopped, but of them all, he was the only one to sit up again, panting, sweaty, sticky though he was, and look around for the head priestess.

Being the only person in attendance with clothes, her crimson toga was easy to spot.

"Uh... I did it?" he said in the direction of her very-stained toga.

"...Mkay."

"What?"

"You... You're good," she replied, lazily waving at him with a single hand. "I'mma... I'mma take a nap... Just... Go." With that, she joined dozens of other women as they started to snore. The rest muttered and mumbled to each other as the now-sanctified Prince-Consul climbed to his feet, clearly disoriented, but happy all the same.

Finding his robe, miraculously unstained, he dressed himself and left the very pleased devotees to their rest with more of a spring in his step than he'd entered with.

Now there was no way to challenge his right to rule, chosen by Gaius and confirmed by the gods, yet something stuck in the back of his mind.

All who had ruled the empire had been backed by Gladius, Lord of Valor and patron god of Reme itself, his color was crimson red, hence the head priestess' choice of dress. When the voice had spoken to him the light had been gold.

Gladius was a man, the voice had not been male.

Sesteci, Lady of Dominance, Conquest, and Rough Sex was gold and a woman...

"I think I'll just keep all that to myself for a while," he must aloud as he crossed the verdant lawn between the temple and the palace proper, deep in thought.

*~*~*

The Kho were a relatively simple folk, as most nomads were. They found what they needed as they moved around with their horse herds; and what they couldn't find, they stole. Usually from Gord.

They rarely had leaders, being nearly barbaric, but at the moment most followed the will of Bofa Deez, a warrior renowned for her savagery and cunning, as well as her ability to fuck for days at a time.

This last feat was largely considered a boast by many, but as Augustus looked down at her from his golden throne, he felt there was a chance it was true.

While most Kho were tall, Bofa was pushing eight feet, almost eye-level with the Prince as he sat enthroned on a rather well-raised dais; and while most people that tall tended to be rail-thin, she was layered with the tough muscle of a fighter and daily rider. Not to mention the way she was dressed, a single steel pauldron, a loincloth held up by a broad leather belt, and a pair of stout boots.

"Those gold leaves look very pretty on your head," she said, folding her thick arms beneath her bared bust, much to the consternation of the assembled nobility of the Court. Seeing a pair of tits out in the open was hardly remarkable out in the open streets, but in front of the Golden Throne? Such brazenness! Not that anyone outright complained at the sight of her perky dark nipples, certainly no more than they complained about they way they could all see her half-stiff horsecock through the holes in her well-weathered leather loincloth.

"Thank you, Lady Deez," Augustus said eventually, his own eyes unable to focus on her face when there were so many other more interesting parts on display. "For what reason do you come before the Golden Throne?"

"Call me Bofa," she said instead of answering. "The Kho don't use titles."

"Very well Bofa," he smiled. "Same question."

"The late Caesar bid me ride to Reme to settle a dispute with Gord, but I would use this time to give his successor my fealty as well," she intoned, giving a half bow.

"Do you and your people swear to honor and obey the Empire in all things, so long as you feel that the Imperial rule governs in your best interest?" asked the Prince-Consul, sitting up a bit straighter as he recited the well-used question. All points of business that had been meant for his Uncle were now aimed at him, and made all the more tedious by the consistent addition of overblown pledges of loyalty.

"I, Bofa Deez, Warlord of the Hordes of Kho, so swear," she said, the cant of her hips and upraised eyebrow gave lie to the serious tone in her voice. She knew that Reme could destroy her people so thoroughly that they could practically snap the Kho Peninsula off of Gord and sink it, and be just as effective.

"Then let's get to it, shall we?" Augustus asked, the formalities of loyalty finally out of the way.

"The people of Gord keep building settlements south of the border that Prince-Consul Tiberius set when he conquered them, and then us, and they keep whining when we raid them. The law laid down by Tiberius is clear," she said, clearing her throat before reciting the law in question from memory. "'Anyone dumb enough to to go south of this outpost deserves to get rucked by those horse people!'"

Augustus stifled a laugh, especially as the emissary from Gord turned red with rage. The law was much more formal than that in reality, stating that while the Kho were a part of the Empire, they were permitted to hold their own laws in their own land, and any who entered that land without Imperial escort were beyond the Empire's protection.

Bofa had simply recited Tiberius' original draft, which he had proclaimed when he had first established the Southern Gordian Outpost.

"I see," the Prince said when he'd regained his composure, looking to a tan woman. "Does the Gordian ambassador wish to challenge this claim?"

"The Kho cannot be allowed to act like wanton barbarians forever," she said as she stepped forward, green dress flowing as she walked, plunging neckline revealing a heaving bosom. "Gord owned that land and all the land south of it before Prince-Consul Tiberius legitimized the Kho as their own nation under the Empire and divided our nation in half!"

"But do you challenge the claim that the people of Gord attempted to settle south of the outpost, knowing the possible consequences?" Augustus knew well of the ancestral animosity between Gord and the Kho, even as unpolitically inclined as he had been. Gordian representatives brough it up at least once a year in the Senate, claiming this offence or that as 'the last straw,' urging the Senate to authorize the genocide of the Kho, after which Gord would accept responsibility of the emptied land of course.

"That land rightfully belongs to Gord!"

"Not in the eyes of the Empire," Augustus replied coolly. "However, it would show great compassion if the Warlord could see her people steer clear of the settlements long enough for the... Misguided citizens of Gord to return from whence they came?"

With it phrased as a question, Augustus allowed Bofa to name terms, as was her right, or be benevolent and simply allowing them to flee. Or she could be a huge bitch and harass them all the way out of her people's land.

It was anyone's guess what she would do.

"Very well, we'll let them run away if they wish," she said eventually, smiling at her prince. "But any who remain after the summer solstice are free game. Also, I get to fuck you tonight."

Augustus watched as she groped her cock during that last demind, forcing the leather of her loincloth to conform loosely to the shape of her incredibly thick shaft. He barely stopped himself from drooling.

"I see no issues with this," he said tightly, cheeks burning as he shifted in his seat. "It shall be so."

The Gordian ambassador was clearly not happy with the arrangement, but the matter was closed and she knew it was the best she was going to get, so she merely glared in the face of the smug little grin the pointy-eared savage flashed her way.

No other business was nearly so entertaining as Bofa's complaint for Augustus that day, so the rest of court passed in something of a blur of oaths and land disputes. It seemed that the day-to-day of the Prince-Console was largely spent directing merchants and delegates to other people, yet somehow it still took so long that his ass went numb before the day was done, and he would have lost his mind were it not for Agrippina standing next to him, whispering advice when he didn't know what to do, and telling him some of the gossip about the courtiers and petitioners if it looked like he'd needed a laugh.

Still, when court finally closed and augustus was free to stand, he did so with a sigh of relief, falling in behind his Voice as she slipped into the cloakroom behind the dais.

"Is there a reason that chair is so uncomfortable?" he asked, trying to rub some feeling into his behind through his crimson-trimmed, cream colored toga.

"Well, many believe that no one should be comfortable on a throne," she said. "But yours is also made of gold poured over iron. Not the softest things, metals."

"Ha ha," Augustus said, even as he sidled up to her in the small room, pressing his ass against her. He'd tugged up the hem of his toga when he'd been massaging himself, so it was his naked plump cheeks that rested on the front of her dress. "Will you help me get some feeling back?"

"Certainly your grace," she said, meeting his cheeky grin with one of her own before she pushed him over a low bench, forcing him to brace himself. He was expecting her to fuck him, but instead of feeling her girthy prick poking at his ass, he felt something much smaller and much wetter teasing at his hole, while her hands gripped his cheeks and spread them.

"Ohhhh fuuck~?!" was all the Prince could say as he looked back over his shoulder in time to watch one of her hands move from his ass to grip his cock, where it hung between his thighs, pushing her tongue into his hole and making him moan again. "Ffffuuuck yes! Nnnmmmf~! Eat my ass, oh gods!"

Agrippina could only chuckle as he laid his chest down on the bench, keeping his ass nice and elevated for her. This being the Royal Cloak Room, they both knew that no one would walk in on them, not even if Augustus screamed his slutty little heart out, so she made sure to lick every inch of his well-trained hole until he was curling his toes in pleasure; then she paid careful attention to the smooth skin that stretch from there to his balls, gave those plenty of affection, and finally pulled his cock back towards her before wrapping her lips around it.

Of course, Augustus had asked her to make sure he could get feeling back in his ass, so she slipped a few fingers into hsi hole to keep it occupied while she had her fun.

He was in heaven, receiving the utmost pleasure with almost no effort on his part beyond holding his ass up.

"Can you feel it Augustus?" she asked, the head of his cock pulling free of her lips with a wet pop, her fingers continuing to pump in and out of his hole, curling this way and that to make him squirm.

"Oh gods~!" he replied, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips shook, her hand teasingly stroking his cock. "Yes! I can! Nnnn, feels so good~!"

"Do you want it to feel better?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"YES!"

Agrippina moved quickly, fairly jumping to her feet behind him as she shifted her dress, freeing her cock and taking the Prince-Consul mere feet from his own throne.

The symbolism was not lost on the Prince, of being dominated in the most primal fashion so close to his very literal seat of power. No matter how much power he had, Augustus would always go weak in the knees when a proper cock was introduced to the equation, it was only a matter of time.

*~*~*

Less than an hour after making sure he could feel his ass, the Prince-Consul found himself in the Great Coleseum of Reme(There were many Great Places in Reme), where today a gladiatorial match was to take place. Earlier that day, two lordlings had petitioned the Golden Throne to choose between them who would inherit their ancestral lands and titles, for they were twins, and their mother had died before choosing one herself.

Naturally, Augustus sat in the Royal Box, situated about mid-level in the stands, affording him and his retinue an unparalleled view of the impending fight below. To his right sat Agrippina, and to his left was his mother, her sisters on her left.

"So kind of you to invite us to see the match, your Grace," Venus said with a small smile as she watched the two fighters step forth from ready rooms on opposite sides of the arena.

In face and body, they were identical, but in choice of arms and armor they differed.

One woman turned to face the Prince with her chest bound tightly in linen wrappings and a leather hold-all making herself as streamlined as possible as she wielded a javelin and a small shield. The other face him wearing nothing at all, wielding one of the wickedly curved swords favored by the Kho.

"I know which one I'm rooting for," Bofa said from behind Augustus as he rose, also present on Royal invitation.

"My people!" the Prince intoned, ignoring his guests for a moment to initiate the fight properly. "Today's games start with an important bout! Some of you may know, the Lady Lorkin has passed away, leaving her properties and titles in turmoil as she failed to choose which of her twin daughters would be her heir; So today they shall fight to the first blood to decide who among them shall be the Primogentor of their family line!"

The crowd cheered, not because they cared about the Lorkin estate's future, but because that's what a crowd tended to do when addressed by royalty before a fight.

The pair gave their Prince-Consul a quick salute, Augustus nodded and took his seat just as they turned and began to circle each other.

"Sorry about that little interruption, Mother dearest," he said, leaning towards Venus as she placed her hand on his thigh. "Duty and such."

"You could easily have your voice do such pedantic announcing," she reminded him, even as her fingers started to gently knead his thigh. "It is her purpose to speak for you, after all."

"Mmm! True, but this was my first time," he explained, groaning at the light massage. "I'm sure I'll pass such things to Agrippina when they lose their charms more often than not."

"Good boy," Venus cooed into her son's ear, her breasts pressing into his shoulder through her crimson sundress, the thin material allowing him to feel her stiffening nipples through it. "I want to see you in my rooms after the match. You don't need to be here for the normal games, do you?"

"Nnnooo..." he said slowly, sighing as his mother's breath blossomed warmly in his ear. "I suppose I don't..."

"Your Grace did call for a meeting of the Council as soon as they could be gathered," Agrippina hastened to remind him.

"Oh yes," he said, pouting just a little and completely missing the glare his mother threw over his head at his voice.

"And me tonight," Bofa helpfully called out from her seat behind him, giving Venus a knowing smirk even as she got her own glare in return.

"Right right," Augustus said with a smile. "I wouldn't dream of missing our... Appointment."

*~*~*

That evening Augustus paced his chambers, telling himself he was simply getting a feel for the room that he certainly wasn't at all nervous about Bofa's impending visit.

And why would he be? Getting brutally ravaged by one of the Kho was the worst kept secret fantasy of almost every noble in the Imperial City! A fantasy that very few ever saw gratified. After all, getting bruised and broken hurt, sex-caused or otherwise, but he was sure he could take it. He had to. This was his first 'diplomatic meeting' after all. He had to make a good impression on one of the most storied women south of Gord, a woman who could flex one arm and crush a melon, a woman with a literal horse cock.

"This may have been a mistake," he muttered to himself as he turned to look upon his bedchamber. "I'm good, but I don't know if I'm that good..."

His chamber was many things. Stately, expansive, open-concept, full of columns, and the floor was made of massive blocks of polished marble that was covered in various furst and rugs. What his chamber wasn't was easily cleaned and in his sudden fit of nerves he'd pushed so much scented oil up his ass he was leaving a slime trail everywhere he paced.

Normally, his handmaidens would clean up after him as soon as he'd made a mess, but upon seeing the stress he was in they offered to 'relieve his tension.' To Augustus, this felt rude to Bofa, and he wanted to present himself to her as fresh and tight as possible, oils aside of course, so he had been forced to send them and their temptations away.

Now he was strongly considering calling them back and taking them up on their offer. If Bofa saw how nervous he was, she might take grave offence. The only thing stopping the Kho from pouring through the southern mountains was their good will.

True, they had no hope of withstanding the full imperial might of Reme, but Gord would fall before they could be put down. That was the real reason that Reme had an informal alliance with them. That, and a sudden bloody war with recklessly violent savages would severely drain the Empire's resources, leaving them vulnerable to unkind advancement form other unruly neighbors.

Oddly enough, Augustus had become so caught up in the ramifications of war that he'd rather forgotten what had set off his panic in the first place, leaving him calm, if now worried about bigger things.

Until the door nearly exploded off its hinges, revealing the nearly eight-foot figure of Bofa Deez, leader of the Kho by right of conquest, naked save for a single loincloth.

"Prince-Consul!" she boomed, entering the room as one of the guards sheepishly closed the door behind her; a wine bottle in one hand and it's stopper in the other. "Time to seal the deal, little man!"

It took everything in Augustus not to shriek when she made her entrance, but he couldn't stop himself from jumping a little. Graciously, she pretended not to notice.

"Bofa you can't just storm into the royal chambers screaming," he admonished as he forced himself to relax. "And are you sure you want to skip straight to it? We have all night after all."

"I'm here to fuck, boy," she said berfore taking a long pull from the bottle. "Pillow talk is for after."

"Well..." in her presence again, it was easy to forget his nerves from just moments ago. In the moonlight that spilled through the massive open windows, her dark skin shimmered, drawing his eyes this way and that, to her scars and her muscles and her curves.

And to the rising beast between her broad thighs, barely concealed by the tattered leather loincloth. "At least share the bottle."


End file.
